


Following His Father's Path

by ReneeoftheStars



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Dead Body, Death, Orphan - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:35:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27388831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReneeoftheStars/pseuds/ReneeoftheStars
Summary: Boba Fett is left alone in the abandoned Geonosian arena. He gathers what he can ventures into the galaxy, seeking allies.
Relationships: Boba Fett & Jango Fett
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	Following His Father's Path

It took all of Boba Fett’s will to leave his father’s body on the dusty floor of the Geonosian arena.

He tried dragging Jango Fett towards the catacombs, but his father was so much bigger than him, and his armor weighed him down even more. The noise from the battle drifted away as the droids drained from the arena to join the rest of the army outside, leaving Boba alone among the dead and the scrap.

The Count, the Viceroy, the Archduke… they’d all abandoned him. They got what they needed from the Fetts, and now that Jango was dead, they felt they could discard Boba. His hands clenched into fists as he watched the gunships zooming overhead. They’d all pay.

But first, he needed to get out of here. The Jedi and clones would be coming back. And as much as he wanted to take up his father’s blasters and kill them all, he knew it was foolish. Boba stood over his father’s body, hesitating.

_This is a dangerous galaxy, Boba_ , Jango’s voice said in his memory. _You have to be decisive. You cannot hesitate. You cannot second-guess yourself. You have good instincts. Trust them._

Boba knelt down and began prying pieces off his father’s armor. The gauntlets, the utility belt and everything in it, the beskar kneepads, both holsters and the remaining blaster came away easily enough. The jetpack was crushed, and too heavy to carry anyway, and the second blaster was sliced cleanly in half a few meters away. Boba kept his eyes fixed on the movement of his hands, and he could almost ignore Jango’s lifeless body beneath him.

_The helmet._

It lay a distance away, having rolled with the force of the Jedi’s strike. Master Windu, the Count had called him. Boba had watched. Watched as the lightsaber cleaved between Jango’s helmet and shoulders and –

Boba shut his eyes tightly, hugging the gear to his chest. He took several deep breaths before setting the equipment down and walking over to the helmet. He squatted, and with surprisingly steady hands, lifted it from the ground.

He couldn’t see behind the T-shaped visor; his own reflection stared back at him. His father’s eyes.

_“Someday, you may wear a helmet just like this,_ ” his father had often said, when Boba examined the armor. _“If you are to wear it, I will be with you.”_

_But you’re not._ Boba gulped back a sudden bout of tears. _You’re gone._

He pressed his forehead to the cool beskar visor, as he had so many times before, in the manner of _Kov’nyn._ A Keldabe kiss. _I’ll avenge you,_ Boba vowed.

He emptied the helmet.

Boba couldn’t bring himself to look as something thudded onto the ground.

Instead, he stood, collected the gear, and marched into the bowels of the catacombs, the echoes of explosions and screams reverberating through the hive.

*

Jango had hidden the ship well; it remained sheltered by a series of rock outcroppings, unscathed by the strafing runs of Separatist and clone ships alike. Boba secured his father’s belongings in one of the crates and crawled into the pilot’s seat, laying on his back, and lifting his legs to hook over the seat edge.

Now that he was laying down… he didn’t think he could get up.

His father had been his whole galaxy. All he knew was life on Kamino, and the lessons Jango had taught him. The Count had abandoned him, and the Republic would be taking over Kamino. Boba couldn’t imagine they’d take him in – and he wouldn’t want them to.

But he was just a kid in a very big galaxy. He had access to Jango’s accounts, so he wouldn’t starve. But would he be able to get fuel? Could he get a job? He tried to snort, but it came out a hiccup. He would be a bounty hunter, like his father. But he only knew a little of the trade. 

“What do I do, Dad?” he asked.

The ship didn’t answer. Not exactly.

As Boba’s gaze drifted over the controls of the _Slave I_ , a stack of cylindrical datasticks caught his eye. His pulse picked up.

_“Only activate this signal if I am not with you and you need help,”_ Jango had told him, holding up a datastick with white markings. _“Take the ship to Tatooine and wait there. The others will find you.”_

_“Others?”_ Boba had asked, confused; he couldn’t think of a time he would be in the ship without his father.

_“Colleagues of mine. Bounty hunters that I trust. They will help you, because you are my son.”_

Jango was always doing that – reaffirming that Boba was his son, that he was lightyears away from the soldiers being bred to die in the chambers of Kamino. And it made Boba proud.

_Bounty hunters…_

He rifled through the datasticks, holding his breath until he found the one with white markings. He plugged it into the consol. The ship pinged twice to acknowledge the signal had been activated.

Boba wiped his eyes on his sleeves and began to run the take-off checklist. The _Slave I_ came to life around him – he winced. But he had a destination. Jango had left a plan for him. And Boba was going to follow it.

* * *

Tatooine had to be the driest, hottest, worst planet in the galaxy.

He thought Geonosis was bad, whatwith it’s rocky landscape and frequent sandstorms, but Tatooine was beyond miserable.

Twin suns beat down on him when he’d ventured from the ship, the sand shifting and unstable beneath his feet. His mouth went dry after a few minutes outside, and he sweated through his clothes. Boba finally admitted defeat and retreated to the confines of the cool ship.

_“Savor the rain, Boba,”_ Jango had said once on Kamino. _“Water is more precious than credits.”_

After the _Slave I_ alerted him to an approaching sandstorm, he relocated from the top of a dune in the middle of nowhere, to the bottom of a canyon in the middle of nowhere. At least it offered shade and shelter. He wandered the ship, investigating every nook and cranny to keep himself occupied. He found over a dozen hidden compartments he hadn’t known about, and several sets of gear Jango had stashed away. When he wasn’t organizing the ship, he sat on the ship ramp, right beneath some cooling vents, surveying the canyon distractedly.

More than once, he heard deep hissing and growling echoing down the canyon. Shifting sand and shadowy movement in the fissures of the rock made his hair stand on end. It wasn’t until the second day that he finally saw the source of the sound. A massive, yellow-brown scaled reptile slunk from a hole in the rock wall, it’s long frilled neck extending to sniff at the ship. Boba retreated inside – securing the hatch behind him – and watched from the viewport.

It was an impressive beast, ten meters tall and at least thirty from fangs to tail spike. According to his datapad, it was a canyon krayt, the smallest variant of the krayt dragon. The creature balanced on its hind legs and peered into the ship. He stared up at its slitted yellow eyes and slavering jaws, and he knew it was watching him. Boba held his breath, fear worming its way into him.

_“Never let the fear take you,”_ his father’s voice whispered. _“It will destroy you.”_

Boba wrapped his hand around the blaster. It held steady.

The creature’s thick claws tapped at the viewport, testing its strength. It rasped and tried to jostle the ship; but the _Slave I_ was sturdy. After several minutes, the krayt gave up, eying Boba one last time before slinking away, vanishing into a crevice. 

Boba didn’t venture far from the ship after that.

For four days, he moved through a haze, time passing sluggishly as he paced the ship. More than once, he turned to ask Jango a question, only to find the empty air and the memory of the arena flooding back.

Boba was asleep when the proximity alert went off, jolting him awake.

Outside the viewport, two ships settled down a few hundred meters away. When a figure emerged from each ship, he scrambled to the landing ramp, snatching Jango’s helmet as he went. His hands shook as the ramp lowered, and he clenched them into fists, taking a deep breath and drawing his face into a scowl. These bounty hunters would be tough. He had to show he could match them.

Two towering figures closed the distance quickly. A pale humanoid woman with gangly limbs and an antenna sticking through her mostly-bald skull locked eyes with him, and a reptilian Trandoshan male shouldered his rifle.

_Aurra Sing. Bossk._

Boba’s legs wobbled. His heart pounded. But he forced himself to walk forward.

The woman cocked her head to the side as she came to a stop, appraising him. “You’re Boba, aren’t you?”

He bristled. “How do you know me?” he demanded.

Her lip curled. “You look like your father,” she said, and Boba couldn’t tell if the tone was mocking. “I met you once, years ago. And Fett likes to talk about you.” 

“Where _is_ Fett?” the Trandoshan hissed, craning to look into the ship.

The words stuck in Boba’s throat and he choked on them, tears suddenly springing into his eyes. _“Don’t show any weakness_. _”_ The bounty hunters were watching him closely. He forced the tears back and glared at them. “He’s dead.”

They weren’t expecting that. Bossk recoiled in surprise and the woman frowned.

Boba forced himself to say it. “He was killed by the Jedi Windu on Geonosis.”

Aurra Sing tutted. “The Jedi finally caught up to him, did they? Our loss.”

“His own fault,” Bossk growled. “He was careless.”

Anger seared through Boba and he lunged forward, shoving the Trandoshan as hard as he could. “He wasn’t careless! Zam Wesell’s the one that messed everything up! If she’d just done her job, the Jedi wouldn’t’ve shown up!”

Bossk’s clawed hand closed vice-like on Boba’s neck. Boba didn’t think; Jango’s training kicked in. He brought up his boot and grabbed the dagger he’d concealed there and pressed the blade against Bossk’s gut.

For a long moment they stood locked together. Then Bossk threw back his head and gave a long, rasping laugh, releasing Boba’s neck. The Trandoshan slapped Boba’s back, making him buckle. “I like you, kid. You’ve got your father’s spunk.”

Nonplussed, Boba sheathed the knife back in his boot.

“Well, Boba,” Aurra said, leaning against the hull of the _Slave I_ , “you called us here. What do you want?”

_Wasn’t it obvious?_ “I want you to train me to be a bounty hunter. And I want to kill Windu.”

Bossk and Aurra exchanged a skeptical look, and Boba felt his temper bubble up again. “Dad’s been teaching me for years, but I only went on two jobs with him. I’m everything he is.” He caught himself and swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. “I’m everything he was.”

“You’ve got more of a temper than Jango, but maybe that’s your age.” The woman tilted her head. “How old are you?”

“Ten.”

Bossk shrugged. “I was his age when I made my first kill. And Fett wouldn’t have raised a wimp.”

“Agreed. But Mace Windu… he’s one of the most dangerous Jedi in the Order,” Aurra mused. “Not an easy target. But there _is_ quite a bounty on his head from some interested parties.”

“I’m not interested in the money,” Boba snapped.

“Then you’re not a bounty hunter,” Bossk shot back. “This is a career, boy. We kill and capture ‘cuz we’re good at it, and it’s a skill people pay for.”

Aurra drummed her long fingers against the barrel of the slugthrower slung over her shoulder. “Revenge is all well and good, but it won’t pay for food and fuel. You want Windu dead? Fine. We’ll help you. Then you better think long and hard about what you want from this galaxy.” She held Boba’s gaze, considering him. “I respected Fett; if I can help you, I will.”

“Same here,” Bossk said, ruffling his hair roughly with his claws. Boba winced as a talon pricked his scalp. “I’ll try to keep you alive until you learn how to kill things.”

A great weight lifted from Boba’s chest and he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Jango had been right.

_“Trust is a luxury we can’t often afford.”_ He hesitated. “Why would you help me? Just because of my dad?”

Aurra’s mouth quirked into a smile. “We may be killers, but we look out for our own.”

“We follow the Code,” Bossk agreed.

_“The Bounty Hunter Code_ _is the only law we obey.”_

Boba had studied the Code with his father. He knew what that meant. They wouldn’t try to cheat him. He wouldn’t have to worry about them trying to steal Jango’s savings or gear. They wouldn’t take his ship. And as a protégé, they wouldn’t kill him.

For the first time in days, Boba felt focused. Clarity pushed away the grey muddle in his head, and he felt excited. He realized he was standing stiffly. He forced his limbs to relax, and mimicked Aurra and Bossk’s casual stances.

“What’s first?”


End file.
